1989
by rippingbutterflywings
Summary: Clary has always been unlucky in love, but, despite telling herself she would take a break from dating, she finds herself attracted to Jace Wayland after they (literally) bump into each other in a coffee shop. However, things in their relationship take a bad turn as the two begin to know each other. Based on Taylor Swift's new album. AU. OOC.
1. Welcome to New York

_Heyo, guyyys. Okay, so this entire thing is based off of Taylor Swift's (wonderful/amazing) new album, 1989 (hence the title). I took inspiration from the songs, yeah, but also from the hidden messages TS gave each one of them (it's a thing; I'm gonna write them after the first set of lyrics in each of the chapters). All of the chapters are going up either today or tomorrow, seeing as the entire thing's been written. It's sort of like a song fic, except it's an album fic, really? Anyway, it has thirteen chapters, so yeah. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing this, and to DeathCabForMari for not telling us to shut up about it when we talked about it on our group chat, and to spikeyhairgood for fangirling with me about this album. I love you threeeee. :) I hope you guys like it!_

* * *

><p>"Welcome to New York"<p>

_Walking through a crowd, the villages aglow,  
><em>_Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats.  
><em>_Everybody here wanted something more,  
><em>_Searching for a song we hadn't heard before.  
><em>_And I said, "Welcome to New York,  
><em>_It's been waiting for you."  
><em>_It's a new soundtrack,  
><em>_I could dance to this beat forevermore.  
><em>_The lights are so blind,  
><em>_But they never blind me._

* * *

><p><em><span>W<span>e begin our story in New York._

* * *

><p>Clary Fray didn't know that life was going to get this crazy.<p>

She walked through the streets of her new home, barely believing the fact that she was actually living in New York City, also known as her favorite city in the entire world. Before moving here, she'd lived in a small town in Pennsylvania, so she'd visited New York from time to time. But getting to actually _live _there—and by herself, too, for the very first time—was overwhelming and exciting and it made her heart leap to her throat.

The first thing she found herself struggling with was catching up with the people. The pace was awfully fast for someone like her, but she'd only been there for a few hours and she was already mastering it.

Since she was a little girl, she loved New York City. Her mom and stepfather, Luke, brought her and her big brother, Jonathan, every year. They would take them to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree, and to the Lego store, and to ice skate. The city made the most ordinary things seem extraordinary.

When she started high school, Clary began to get serious about her art, and she would beg her mom to take her to New York often, because there was more art in this city than there could ever be in her boring little town. So her mother, who was a big supporter of her daughter's passion, took her once a month to the city, and Clary lived for those weekends she'd spend looking at art everywhere in New York. There was something everywhere—from museums to street art, New York City had it all.

And that—the lively, fast-paced spirit, along with the cultural/artistic diversity—was what drew her to the city. She'd been dreaming about living there since she was a little girl, and, at eighteen, she could say that she finally got what she wanted. Sure, New York City had its flaws—there was extreme poverty, and it wasn't the most secure place to live in—but it was _hers_. Her city. Nothing could change that.

She'd wondered, for a while, if she would be able to do this. To jump out into this unknown and leave behind her family to continue her artistic career in New York. She had sold some of her paintings in her high school years, and had a couple of them in exhibits in the city, but she felt like she had to be there. In the center of it all.

* * *

><p><em>When we first dropped our bags on apartment floors,<br>__Took our broken hearts, put them in a drawer.  
><em>_Everyone here was someone else before._

* * *

><p>Everything she had ever felt before was not relevant.<p>

Clary hadn't finished unpacking; she got distracted by the thought of having this completely new life, this other chance at life. A blank slate. _Tabula rasa, _or whatever. She held the fate of her life in her hands.

Everything—her first breakup, her first time, every fight she ever had—could be left behind when she was in the city by herself. Because, when it was just her, alone in a city with millions of other people, she could find it in her to be herself.

And she had never wanted anything more.

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><p><em>Let me know what you think! <em>


	2. Blank Space

_Here's chapter two! Thanks again to IWriteNaked for beta'ing. :) I hope you like it! _

* * *

><p>"Blank Space"<p>

'_Cause we're young and we're reckless,  
><em>_We'll take this way too far,  
><em>_It'll leave you breathless,  
><em>_Or with a nasty scar.  
><em>_Got a long list of ex-lovers,  
><em>_They'll tell you I'm insane.  
><em>_But I've got a blank space, baby,  
><em>_And I'll write your name._

* * *

><p><span><em>There once was a girl known by everyone and no one.<em>

* * *

><p>Clary had never really had luck when it came to love.<p>

She'd had five relationships during her high school years: Sebastian Verlac, Simon Lewis, Raphael Santiago, Eric Hillchurch, and Kirk Duplesse. The first one was the longest; it lasted for almost a year, from the start of freshman year to the end of it. The second one lasted for a month (the summer before sophomore year), the third for three months (the spring of their sophomore year), the fourth for four and a half months (during the summer/fall of their junior year), and the last one for two (end of senior year). Aside from those five, she'd hooked up with a few others, too, at parties, but this was enough to give her the reputation of a whore who couldn't keep her men.

At first, she didn't really mind, but then it became her everything. Everywhere she went, the words "slut," "whore," and "tramp" were written on people's expressions as they looked at her with disgust in their eyes and an insult on their lips. She didn't consider the fact that she liked to be in relationships something terrible, but, apparently, other people did.

And the boys started to notice.

No one wanted to date her. It was a miracle that Kirk, who went to another school, dated her, and even then she could tell that he knew it wasn't going to last. She knew, too; she'd already been accepted to NYU when they began dating. But she tried anyway.

The weird thing was that nobody really knew her. If someone were to ask a random person from her school what they knew about her, they would reply with the name of a guy she went out with and a shrug when they began asking more questions.

It was why she needed a new start. New York, for her, was enough. It was a state away, and there were millions of people in New York, and chances were that people would actually get to know her for who she was, and not how many guys she'd hooked up with.

The thought made her feel like she could finally begin again.

She walked into the coffee shop with a smile on her face, her head down. She ordered her coffee and sat down at a table. She pulled out her sketchbook from her purse, took a pencil, and began to draw.

"Clary!" the barista called. If it hadn't been so loud, she wouldn't have caught it.

She got up from her chair and went to get her hot coffee. This was what she looked forward to every morning, and she knew she'd have to get up extra early once classes started to get her coffee, but she didn't even care. She lived for it.

She was so distracted that she didn't think to look as she turned, and, the next thing she knew, a guy was muttering the word _fuck _and she felt herself slam into someone's chest.

She looked up. The guy standing in front of her was, to say the least, attractive. He had blonde hair, golden eyes, and a frown on his face. He looked kinda pissed, to be honest.

And then Clary registered what happened.

"Oh, shit." She got some napkins from the dispenser next to her. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

He looked slightly surprised at the curses coming from her. She suspected that it was because she looked like a kid due to her (lack of) height and wide eyes.

"It's okay," he said, wiping at his shirt. Thankfully, he didn't seem to be a businessman or anything; he was just wearing a navy blue t-shirt and jeans.

"I'm Clary," she said, mortified.

"Jace."

And, even though she told herself she was done being unlucky, she smiled at him anyway.

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><p><em>Let me know what you think. xo<em>


	3. Style

_So, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing. Also, I'm not Cassandra Clare/I don't own The Mortal Instruments. I didn't say it before, but I'm saying it now. Anywayyy, enjoy. :) _

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><p>"Style"<p>

_Midnight, you come and pick me up  
><em>_No headlights  
><em>_Long drive,  
><em>_could end in burning flames or paradise  
><em>_Fade into view,  
><em>_it's been a while since I have even heard from you  
><em>_I should just tell you to leave cause I  
><em>_Know exactly where it leads but I  
><em>_Watch us go round and round each time_

* * *

><p><span><em>Her heart belonged to someone who couldn't stay.<em>

* * *

><p>She had been going out with Jace for a month, and she was quickly realizing that she didn't know anything about anything.<p>

It started out simple. He sat at her table after she bumped into him, and they started talking to each other. She found out that he was also studying at NYU, and they began talking about the school, but then he spotted her sketchbook and asked to see her drawings. She showed them to him, watching his expression as he took them all in.

"These are amazing," he'd said.

She'd blushed, her cheeks turning the color of red roses. "Thank you."

They'd moved on to different topics, from music (he liked pretty much anything, but was especially fond of piano instrumentals) to food (he had a weakness for pasta, but he also loved Mexican food). He was a native of the city, and he told her about all the places she should visit. He told her about his favorite museum (the Museum of Natural History), his favorite bookstore (The Strand), and all of the things he could possibly tell her.

"I have to go home," Jace had said when the clock struck noon. They'd been talking for three hours. "But, hey, how about you give me your number and we go out sometime?"

And that was how it all started.

They'd gone out to the Museum of Modern Art, because he knew she would like it. They talked and admired the pieces of work that hung from the walls and the sculptures and everything, though she noticed that he looked at her more than he did at the art. Not that she minded, though. She rather enjoyed being looked at by him.

The lines began to blur after their first big fight. They'd screamed their heads off without love in their minds. They felt like anger made up their DNA as they yelled and yelled until he walked away and slammed the front door of her dorm room and she crawled onto her bed and cried for the rest of the night.

But he apologized. "I'm just not used to this," he told her, and she saw sincerity in his eyes. She couldn't blame him for it, either. They both fought, after all.

Even though they pretended to be okay after the fight, there was a distance they couldn't name or put their finger on. Sure, their lights still lit up when they looked at each other, and her heart skipped a beat when he said her name or even so much as looked at her, but there was something off. Some kind of friction hidden deep in the layers of stolen kisses and looks that made her feel like she could fall apart.

He picked her up one night from her dorm. He just showed up without a word, asking her to go out with him. It was almost midnight; the cold October air hit her like a ton of bricks when she walked out with him. _This could go anywhere,_ she thought to herself, realizing that the rules she found herself being adamant about before had blurred now. There were no clearly drawn lines. There was just the two of them.

And that drive in the moonlight could either make or break them.

Clary knew, of course, because it had happened before.

* * *

><p><em>I say I heard that you been out and about with some other girl,<br>__Some other girl.  
><em>_He says, what you've heard it's true but I  
><em>_Can't stop thinking about you and I  
><em>_I said I've been there too a few times._

* * *

><p>"Just tell me the truth," Clary said to him. "I mean, did you two…?" Her look filled in the empty space that followed her words.<p>

Jace sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Clary—"

"Tell me," she prompted.

After another deep sigh, he nodded. "Yeah. It's true. But, Clary, I can't—I mean, look, I can't stop thinking about you."

_I don't know what we are anymore_, she thought to herself. "Yeah," Clary replied. "I've been there. You know. Lately." After their last drive at midnight with the moonlight illuminating their faces along with the streetlights, they'd fought once more. But it was like playing _he loves me, he loves me not_: the first time they made up, but the second one they fell apart. But she couldn't help it—when she looked over at him, she felt a feeling she had never welcomed before, and she couldn't help but think that that was what falling in love felt like.

"Seriously?" He looked incredulous.

She nodded. "Seriously."

They sat down on the edge of his bed. "Well, what're we gonna do?"

She looked over at him. "I can't stop thinking about you, either. If that helps."

He bumped his forehead against hers. "We're so completely fucked."

_I can't give up_. The thought was the only thing in her mind. She loved him like she had never loved any of her boyfriends, even though she had been in longer relationships. "I wanna be completely fucked with you."

His grin melted her insides. "It's settled, then."

Their lips sealed the deal.

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><p><em>Cause we never go out of style<br>__We never go out of style_

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><p><em>As always, all comments are appreciated. :) <em>


	4. Out of the Woods

_As per usual, thanks to IWriteNaked for her awesome beta'ing skills. :D Enjoy!_

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><p>"Out of the Woods"<p>

_Looking at it now, last December,  
><em>_We were built to fall apart, then fall back together.  
><em>_Your necklace hanging from my neck,  
><em>_The night we couldn't quite forget  
><em>_When we decided  
><em>_To move the furniture so we could dance,  
><em>_Baby, like we stood a chance  
><em>_Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying,  
><em>_And I remember thinking,  
><em>_Are we out of the woods yet?_

* * *

><p><span><em>They loved each other recklessly.<em>

* * *

><p>Clary thought that he was crazy.<p>

"Oh, come on." There was a spark in his eyes. "We just have to move the couch."

"Your mom might kill us," she reminded him.

He shook his head. "She's out of town. We'll have it fixed by morning."

"You're nuts."

He grinned. "Maybe."

She shook her head but helped him move the sofa to the side. Next came the coffee table, which was slightly heavier. All Clary kept thinking was that maybe, just maybe, this—him smiling, her enjoying herself despite the ridiculousness behind what they were doing—could finally mean that they were getting the hang of being in a relationship. A stable one, even.

After they rearranged the furniture, he plugged in his iPod, and slow music filled the living room. Her feet hit the hardwood floor without a sound as she walked up to him. They began to dance, letting the music lead their movements, but they were more clinging on to each other than anything else. She wanted the rest of their time together to be like that moment. She wanted them to be together before even thinking of being apart. She wanted to feel like she could be safe, like a step forward didn't mean three steps back.

She wanted to know if they'd made it to safety as they danced with the moonlight streaming through the cracks in the windows.

* * *

><p><em>Remember when you hit the brakes too soon<br>__Twenty stitches in a hospital room  
><em>_When you started crying  
><em>_Baby, I did too  
><em>_But when the sun came up  
><em>_I was looking at you  
><em>_Remember when we couldn't take the heat  
><em>_I walked out, I said, I'm setting you free  
><em>_But the monsters turned out to be just trees  
><em>_When the sun came up  
><em>_You were looking at me_

* * *

><p>They had been arguing when it happened.<p>

It was his side of the car that received the most damage. Which was why, four hours later, she was holding an ice pack to her forehead while he was being stitched up.

"We wanna keep him overnight for observation," the doctor had told Clary moments earlier. "He seems fine, but he did receive a pretty big hit."

She nodded, telling herself over and over that she would not leave his side. She didn't care if they tried to escort her out of there for some unknown reason. She was not leaving him alone.

She didn't even remember what the argument was about anymore.

When everyone left, the reality of what had happened finally crashed down on them. When she looked over at Jace, she saw that he was crying, silent tears streaming down his face. It hurt to move for him; she could see it when he grimaced as he moved his hands towards his face to wipe the tears away.

Clary couldn't help but lose it. She started crying—and not in the way he was, either, but with hiccupping sobs that she couldn't suppress. They had almost died because of some fight that was irrelevant enough that she didn't remember it merely four hours after.

Three hours later, the sun came up. She hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He, however, had passed out almost immediately. She was still looking at him, at the steady rising and falling of his chest. She closed her eyes, a tear falling down as if on command. She wiped it, knowing what to do. She loved him too much.

When he woke up, she was standing next to him. "Hey," he said, the ghost of a smile on his face. "What time is it?"

She shook her head. She hadn't slept in over fifteen hours; she didn't know what time it was. "Jace," she said, trying to focus despite her overwhelming exhaustion. "I can't do this anymore."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I can't—I mean, you almost—I just—"

"Clary," he said, cutting her off. "What are you saying?"

"I have to set you free," she whispered, giving him a quick kiss on the top of his head. Her voice cracked when she spoke, but she had to do it.

"Clary—"

"Jace."

"Don't go." The sun illuminated his face. He was looking at her with pleading eyes, determined to make her stay. She knew, from the moment that she turned back to look at him, that she had to stay.

Because she couldn't walk away, no matter how hard she tried.


	5. All You Had To Do Was Stay

_Thank you for having made it this far! Also, thanks to my beta, IWriteNaked, because she is awesome, even though she hates pasta and hasn't started The Darkest Minds yet. _

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><p>"All You Had To Do Was Stay"<p>

_Hey, all you had to do was stay  
><em>_Had me in the palm of your hand  
><em>_Man, why'd you have to go and lock me out when I let you in  
><em>_Stay, hey, now you say you want it  
><em>_Back, now that it's just too late  
><em>_Well could've been easy,  
><em>_All you had to do was stay  
><em>_Let me remind you,  
><em>_This was what you wanted  
><em>_You ended it  
><em>_You were all I wanted  
><em>_But not like this_

* * *

><p><span><em>They paid the price.<em>

* * *

><p>The day Jace Wayland and Clary Fray broke up, it snowed.<p>

She had felt empty after he left, so she'd decided to take a walk. Which was why she wandered around New York at ten o'clock on a Thursday night, even though she had an exam the next day. The snow fell from the sky as if heaven had frozen over and fallen apart. She shivered; she hadn't worn a heavy enough coat, and the cold was making its way under her skin.

He couldn't stay. It was that simple. She loved him, and he loved her, but he couldn't stay. He'd told her that he loved her with a kiss to her forehead, that he thought she was beautiful, that she took his breath away. He told her that he loved her like the sky loved the stars and galaxies and everything in between, but that love just was not enough sometimes.

And she wondered if she could find someone to blur the lines for her ever again.

She wondered if falling in love was worth the aftermath. As she walked through the streets of the city she called her home, of the city she'd been excited to move to just five months before, she wondered if getting to know someone and pouring her heart out was worth the fact that she always ended up by herself, with a hole in her heart and a feeling of emptiness inside.

He had her everything. He had her hopes, her fears, her dreams, her likes, her dislikes, her crazy three a.m. thoughts, her embarrassing stories—he had her entire life in his hands, along with her heart, and she thought it was enough for him to stay around, but it wasn't. With un-spilled tears in his eyes, he said goodbye for what seemed like the very last time.

* * *

><p><em>Here you are now<br>__Calling me up  
><em>_But I don't know what to say  
><em>_I've been picking up the pieces of the mess you made  
><em>_People like you always want back the love they pushed aside  
><em>_But people like me are gone forever  
><em>_When you say goodbye_

* * *

><p>"Clary?"<p>

The sound of his voice made her turn to stone. It had been almost two weeks—two entirely painful weeks full of tears and alcohol and her roommate's concerned expression as Clary skipped class three times in a row—since Jace said goodbye to her.

And he was calling her.

She didn't know how to find her voice.

"Hello? Clary?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah?"

She heard him let out a breath. "I made a mistake."

Clary welcomed the unexpected rage that coursed through her upon hearing the same words he said whenever he screwed up. She was sick. So, so sick. She was sick of his shitty "I made a mistake" excuse, sick of the way he thought he could just waltz back into her life after he hurt her. "Jace—"

"You have every right to hate me," he interrupted her. "But I love you. I love you so much, Clary, and I just don't know what to do."

She hated to admit that there was a part of her that wanted to give up and go back to him, but she couldn't. Just because he loved her enough now doesn't mean he would love her enough later. "That's not my problem."

"What?"

"Look, Jace, you chose this. You were the one who ended this. I didn't say goodbye to you; you said goodbye to me. And I can't just put everything on hold when you decide to change your mind." There was a part of her that was screaming at this rational part of her. The former told her that she would never find a love like this, that she would never meet a guy like him. "I'm sorry, but I can't. Not like this."

When she hung up the phone, her hands were still shaking.

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><p><em>Let me know what you thinkkk. :)<em>


	6. Shake It Off

_I feel awfully repetitive in these ANs (probably because I'm writing them all at the same time, pretty much), but whatever. Thanks to IWriteNaked. Also, sorry for the short chapters, but they make a decently-sized story. (Over 7k words and all.) Anyway, thanks for reading!_

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><p>"Shake It Off"<p>

_But I keep cruising  
><em>_Can't stop, won't stop moving  
><em>_It's like I got this music  
><em>_In my mind  
><em>_Saying, "It's gonna be alright."_

* * *

><p><span><em>She danced to forget him.<em>

* * *

><p>"I refuse to let you move on like this," Isabelle said to Clary.<p>

Because of that life-changing statement, Clary found herself in a too-tight dress and uncomfortable heels while Isabelle worked with her hair. Clary had only been informed that she was going to have fun, though that could have been anything. From the looks of it, though, they were going to a party. A great way to meet boys that she didn't want to become attached to.

Or so she hoped.

It had been merely a week since Jace called her, and Isabelle had seemingly had enough. Clary thought that this was a good thing, too; if it hadn't been for her roommate's persuasiveness, she would still be wallowing in bed, skipping classes and eating too much ice cream.

But there was only one flaw in this seemingly perfect plan: Clary didn't like partying.

She liked going out, sure. But partying until she could barely stand in heels and felt light-headed? No, thank you. She was not about that life. But Isabelle, who was very stubborn and very, very outgoing, had none of it. She got Clary in a black dress and high heels in twenty minutes.

Clary knew that it was the only thing she could do. She couldn't stay in bed, feeling depressed about having lost the one boy she had ever loved as recklessly as she did. She was in love with the love that she felt, and losing it meant facing the probability of it never coming her way again.

And she didn't know if she was ready to deal with that.

"Sit straight," Isabelle ordered. "I'm almost done."

Clary rolled her eyes but sat up straighter, hoping that she would be able to get up soon. Isabelle was curling her hair so that, instead of looking like a bird's nest, the waves fell beautifully past her shoulders.

She looked at herself in the mirror, something coming over her. She didn't know what was happening to her, whether it was the lack of sleep or the overwhelming feeling of sadness, but she thought to herself: _I still look the same as I did in November._

"Isabelle?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you cut my hair?"

The two of them locked eyes, and the black-haired girl raised an eyebrow. "How come?"

Clary shrugged. "I need a change."

Isabelle's expression softened. "Let me go get my scissors."

A few minutes later, the sound of the scissors connecting as they disconnected her strands of hair filled the room. The two of them were silent. When Isabelle finished, Clary's curls kissed her shoulders. Her hair had reached her elbows before, and now her curls barely grazed her shoulders.

She turned to Isabelle with a smile. "Let's go, then."

And, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she thought: _It's all gonna be okay._

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><p><em>Make me happy and let me know what you think? <em>


	7. I Wish You Would

_Hiii again. Okay, so, the hidden message actually has nothing to do with this chapter, but I put it up anyways. Also, my friend sent me a text telling me that the email notifications weren't letting her sleep, and then I laughed about it for ten million years. I'm the worst. Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, and I hope y'all like this chapter. _

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><p>"I Wish You Would"<p>

_I wish you would come back  
><em>_Wish I never hung up the phone like I did  
><em>_I wish you knew that I'll never forget you as long as I live, I  
><em>_Wish you were right here, right now, it's all good, I wish you would_

* * *

><p><span><em>He drove past her street each night.<em>

* * *

><p>Even though she went out with Isabelle nearly every day for the past two weeks, Clary still missed Jace.<p>

He had rooted himself into her life, had become a part of her soul. He had gotten under her skin and made his way into her thoughts, and she couldn't shake his presence away, no matter how hard she tried.

It frustrated her to think that she hung up the phone. Clary shut him out once and for all, and sometimes she would go twenty-something hours without sleeping because regret ate her up and made her stay awake. It was killing her, she thought. She tried to go out with Isabelle and shake off her worries and the last remaining traces of him that held on to her, but she couldn't. He was still there, everywhere she looked.

She wished she could tell him a lot of things. Sometimes, when she couldn't fall asleep, she would play possible conversations with him in her mind. She always told him things like _I miss you _and _you were the greatest thing to happen to me _and _I will never forget you in a million years. _As cheesy as those were, she felt all of them. Clichés were clichés for a reason.

"You can't dwell on the past," Isabelle would tell her. Their conversations became almost like a routine: Clary would tell Isabelle all the things she wanted to tell Jace, and Isabelle would tell Clary, in her own words, to get a grip.

She wondered sometimes if he ever thought of her, if he ever went to sleep with her name on his lips. It happened too many times that she would spend her nights thinking of him, with her phone in her hands and his number in her mind. She had deleted him from her contacts, but she had memorized his number. There were times in which she typed it in, hands shaking, but she never called. She wanted to tell him to come back, but she never did.

She couldn't call.

Because, aside from a whispered _I'm sorry_, what else could she give him?

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><p><em>Let me know what you think!<em>


	8. Bad Blood

_SO HEY. First of all, this story has, like, ten reviews by this point in time, which is awesome, because it hasn't even been up for twenty minutes, so thank you. :D Also, this is another chapter in which the hidden message doesn't necessarily go with what's in the chapter, but it does have to do with the overall fact that, in life, some people will remain dicks. So, yeah. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, and to you for reading. I hope you enjoy this one! _

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><p>"Bad Blood"<p>

_Now we got problems  
><em>_And I don't think we can solve them  
><em>_You made a really deep cut  
><em>_And baby now we got bad blood_

* * *

><p><span><em>She made friends and enemies<em>

* * *

><p>The one thing she didn't expect was to run into Sebastian Verlac as she visited her family for a weekend, but there he was.<p>

The thing about her and Sebastian was that they never ended things on good terms. He was a real cuntnugget to her, and she hated looking at his face. He always spread nasty rumors about her after their breakup, hurting her whenever he got the chance. He was a real dick.

And it shouldn't have affected her four years later, but it still did.

Her blood felt like it was boiling as his eyes lit up in recognition and he closed the distance between them. "Clary Fray," he said, a grin on his face. "What are you doing here?"

She waved her arms around. "It's a supermarket, Sebastian." She gave him her _don't ask me stupid questions _look and shook her head. "What do you want?"

"Oh, come on." He let out a chuckle. "You're not still mad about high school, are you?"

Clary looked at him with an incredulous look on her face. "You're kidding me, right?" She wanted to tell him so many things. _You were supposed to be in love with me, but you ruined me._

"What?"

"You can't act like it was forever ago when it's been less than a year," she pointed out to him. "I still can't even walk around this godforsaken town without people pointing at me. So yeah, Sebastian, I'm a little pissed off that you contributed to that nightmare when I was just fifteen."

She thought, for a second, about how she'd been able to start over with Jace. Every road led back to him, she realized, and pulled her mind away from that miserable train of thought before it crashed.

"Clary," Sebastian said to her, "we were just kids."

"I'm still not hearing an apology."

"Well, I'm sorry." But the way he said it made one thing clear: he didn't mean it.

She shook her head. "Not good enough."

"Nothing's good enough for you, is it?"

She was getting real tired of his shit. "No, I guess it isn't."

"Well," he said with a sneer, "no wonder people talked shit about you in the first place."

She paid for the groceries and made her way home, ignoring the stares and whispers and the sinking feeling in her stomach that she would never be able to keep anyone around.

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><p><em>As always, let me know what you think! <em>


	9. Wildest Dreams

_Hiii, guys. This AN will be short, because I can't think of anything to say. Anyway, thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing. I hope you guys like this one. (It's really short. I know. I KNOW.) _

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><p>"Wildest Dreams"<p>

_Say you'll remember me  
><em>_Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe  
><em>_Red lips and rosy cheeks  
><em>_Say you'll see me again even if it's just in your  
><em>_Wildest dreams_

* * *

><p><span><em>He only saw her in his dreams<em>

* * *

><p>A month and a half after they broke up, he sent her a text that read: <em>I dreamt of you last night.<em>

It haunted her. She wanted to message him back, to ask him what the dream was about, to tell him that she missed him. But she couldn't talk to him. One moment of weakness could ruin everything, and she couldn't risk it.

But she wondered anyway.

She wondered about the dream. How did he see her after the past few weeks? Did he even think about her as the girl with the freckles spread out across her cheeks like stars on the sky? Did he think of her as the girl with the hair as red as flames and the eyes as green as grass during the spring? Did he still think of her as the girl who kissed him by surprise and held his hand every time they walked somewhere?

She found herself wanting to be remembered. And not just as in, "Hey, yeah, that's Clary Fray," but she wanted him to remember the way his name rolled off her lips at two a.m. and the way she looked at him when they woke up side by side. She wanted him to remember the photographs she took of them together wandering around New York. She wanted him to remember her laughter and her tears and her fury, because she did not want to be reduced to a name and a memory of some faraway love.

She wanted to burn bright in his heart and to be etched into his memory for the rest of her days.

Would it always feel this way? Would it always feel like every second she lived was invaded by thoughts of him? She loved him like the sky loved the clouds, like the night loved the moon, but she didn't know if she could bear it. She didn't know if she could stand going through life with him always in the back of her mind.

But, even then, she always thought to herself: _I hope he remembers me_.

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><p><em>Let me know what you think! <em>


	10. How To Get The Girl

_SO HEY. I've only taken, like, two five-minute breaks in between uploads, which sucks, because my back is murdering me. ANYWAY, thank you for reading! You're all very cool people. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, as always. I hope you like this one!_

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><p>"How to Get the Girl"<p>

_Stand there like a ghost  
><em>_Shaking from the rain, rain  
><em>_She'll open up the door  
><em>_And say, are you insane?  
><em>_Say it's been a long six months  
><em>_And you were too afraid to tell her what you want  
><em>_And that's how it works  
><em>_It's how you get the girl  
><em>_And then you say_

_I want you for worse or for better  
><em>_I would wait for ever and ever  
><em>_Broke your heart, I'll put it back together  
><em>_I would wait for ever and ever  
><em>_And that's how it works  
><em>_That's how you get the girl_

* * *

><p><span><em>Then one day he came back.<em>

* * *

><p>She sat on the windowsill with her sketchbook balanced on her lap and a cup of tea in her hand when she heard the persistent knocking on her door.<p>

Clary stood up, carefully setting down her tea before going over to open the door. Isabelle had gone out to visit her brother, Alec, so it was just her in their dorm room. Most people were home for spring break, but Clary hadn't left to New Jersey because of the never-ending rain.

She opened the door anyway, fully expecting it to be her RA or some of her neighbors asking for something silly, but what—or, rather, _who_—she found on her front door made her blood turn cold.

It was the beginning of April. Six months had passed since Jace and Clary had ended things, but there he was. In front of her.

And he was soaked.

"Are you crazy?" she blurted out, holding up a finger. She didn't let him come in, but she tossed him a clean towel for him to dry himself. She was angry, but she wasn't angry enough to let him catch pneumonia.

"Slightly." He began drying himself. "Can I come in?"

Instead of answering, she stood in front of him with her arms crossed over her chest. "What are you doing here, Jace?"

He sighed. "I need to talk to you."

"What is there to talk about?" She wanted to laugh at the ridiculous nature of the situation. "It's been six months, Jace."

"Look," he replied, pinching the bridge of his nose in the way he did whenever he was frustrated, "I'll leave you alone if you tell me that you're over this. If you tell me that you haven't thought of me or the things you'd say or the things you'd change. If you can tell me that, then I'll leave."

Clary wanted desperately to open her mouth and spit a lie out so that he would leave her alone, but he always made her painfully honest. She couldn't lie to him, not when he was standing out there, soaked, waiting for her reply.

She groaned. "Come in. I hate you."

He sat on Isabelle's wooden desk chair and waited until Clary was settled on her bed before speaking. "I know that I hurt you," Jace said, "and, as much as I wish that I could undo that, I can't. I broke your heart, and I know—I _know_—that it makes me a terrible person. But I love you. And I'll do whatever it takes to fix this. I'll wait years, if that's what it takes."

The sound of rain was the only thing that could be heard following that confession. She buried her head in her hands and tried to clear her head, but she didn't know what to think. Even after a whole agonizing minute had gone by, she didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he'd absolutely shattered her. They hadn't even dated for that long—five months in total—but he'd managed to get her in ways that no one ever had. He understood the way she worked and thought and felt. He was the one she wanted to be by her side when her dreams came true. But he'd completely sent that to shit when he broke up with her for absolutely no reason other than his inability to stay.

But.

On the other hand, he was everything she ever wanted. Sure, he was gorgeous and smart and charming and hilarious and kind, but he was also understanding and he _got _her. Those were rare people, she came to realize. Those who completely understood someone else, who shared a deep connection with another person. Those types of relationships didn't come along often, and she'd stumbled into one of them with him. As dysfunctional and terrible as they were together, they were equally great.

And she didn't know what to do.

"I appreciate that you came here and told me this, but I just—" She took a deep breath. "Give me some time to figure this out, okay?"

He nodded, hugging himself with the towel she had given him. He was still freezing; she could tell.

"You can stay, though," she said. "I can turn up the heater, and we can just chill."

He smiled at her. "That'd be nice."

And, of course, they both knew they were screwed.

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><p><em>Let me know what you thiiiink. :) <em>


	11. This Love

_So heeey, people of the world. This is another chapter in which the message isn't directly related to the overall content, but it does have to do with what happens in the other chapters. You'll see. Anyway, thanks for reading/reviewing/everything! And thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing, because yes. Enjoy!_

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><p>"This Love"<p>

_This love is good, this love is bad  
><em>_This love is alive back from the dead  
><em>_These hands had to let it go free  
><em>_And this love came back to me_

* * *

><p><span><em>Timing is a funny thing.<em>

* * *

><p>He showed up the following day.<p>

Clary was thankful that Isabelle had decided to stay at her house this week, because she didn't want to answer any questions related to Jace. She still hadn't told her friend that he was back, and, while she did feel slightly guilty, it wasn't enough to make her confess. She knew that Isabelle would be down at the university's campus in a second, dragging Jace out of her dorm.

She sighed, wondering why it was so easy for her to fall back into him. Their love was terrible—it was as if heaven and hell collided and created their relationship as a result. They often felt like they were tiptoeing around the edges of the things that mattered. She didn't know if that was normal, but it was theirs.

They didn't talk about pressing matters or anything after the previous night. He was just there with her, and they talked about the stuff they used to bring up daily, like the news and TV shows and weird questions, ranging from stupid ("Do you think animals get songs stuck in their heads?") to philosophical ("When we die, where do we go?"). They really covered everything in just a few hours.

She didn't know what to do. She had let him go, finally resigned to the fact that their goodbye had been final. She had been suffering, true, but she had been doing so on her own. She'd felt proud of that, but not nearly as relieved as when she saw him the previous day. Beneath the layers of anger and heartbreak, her heart let out a little breath, as if to say, _well, I can finally take a break from the hurt thrown my way._

Clary didn't know how it was possible that he came back to her. She had been so sure that he would never want to speak to her again, that he would never even try. She didn't know how it had been possible for her to end things with him, but it had happened. Their love was dead. It had been shattered to a million pieces by the universe, but, for some reason, he still showed up at her doorstep, begging for forgiveness.

And she wondered whether it was the fact that she still loved him, deep in her heart, or whether it was the fact that she had forgotten what her broken heart had felt like during the winter, but, for some reason, she felt inclined to tell him that she wanted to try again.

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><p><em>Tell me what you think. xo <em>


	12. I Know Places

_Heyooo. This is another chapter in which I didn't particularly follow what the hidden message said, but it DOES have some impact in this chapter (what with Isabelle watching over Clary like a hawk). Anyway, yeah. I hope you like it. Thanks to IWriteNaked for the beta'ing. I love you, homie. Team H&H. _

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><p>"I Know Places"<p>

_Baby I know places we won't be found  
><em>_And they'll be chasing our trace tryin' to track us down  
><em>_Cause I,  
><em>_I know places we can hide,  
><em>_I know places_

* * *

><p><span><em>And everyone was watching.<em>

* * *

><p>"Hurry <em>up<em>, Jace!"

He flattened himself so that the closet would close, but it wouldn't budge. "Goddamn it," Clary cursed swiftly. "Look, she's gonna be here soon, and we can't let her see you."

"So why don't we leave?"

"I already told you," she said, dragging him out of the closet and yanking the doors shut, "she knows everywhere I go. She'll look for me; she really wants to talk to me."

But his grin told her another story. "Look, I think this is kind of nuts, but I have a place where we can hang out."

Her phone rang; it was Isabelle. She saw the five unread messages that she had received, all about some sort of "girl emergency." As much as she loved her roommate, she wanted to be with Jace. "Okay. Fine. Let's go."

She let him drive her around in his motorcycle, the wind moving her hair and making it get all up in her face. _So annoying_. She kept going, though, her hands locked around his waist tightly. She loved the feeling of being pressed up against him, of having him take her somewhere she couldn't be found.

And, right then, she knew she had to make a choice.

There were moments in life in which she could picture certain things happening, and that was how she knew that she had come to a realization. Right then, with her arms around Jace's waist, with her head resting on his back, she knew she had to make a choice, and, as she pictured herself making it, knew she'd made the right one.

She just had to figure out how to tell him.

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><p><em>Let me know what you think! Just one more chapter. :) <em>


	13. Clean

_So, here it is. The last chapter. I know that this story doesn't have a traditional ending, but it does have a happy one. The reason I decided to write this fic based on her album was because I liked the message, and it inspired me to write a fic that had a bittersweet ending. Anyway, I really like this album, and you should check it out if you haven't, because I think it's really amazing and has a great message. Thanks to IWriteNaked for beta'ing this story, and thanks to all of you for reading it. :) _

* * *

><p>"Clean"<p>

_Rain came pouring down when I was drowning  
><em>_That's when I could finally breathe  
><em>_And that morning, gone was any trace of you,  
><em>_I think I am finally clean  
><em>

_10 months sober, I must admit  
><em>_Just because you're clean don't mean you miss it  
><em>_10 months older, I won't give in  
><em>_Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it_

* * *

><p><span><em>She lost him but she found herself and somehow that was everything<em>

* * *

><p>Breaking up with Jace—for real, with a note of finality that no one would dare violate—was the hardest thing Clary had to do. The truth is, she was holding on to some sort of twisted hope that he would ignore the words that she spat at him when she decided to end it, but he didn't. He just nodded and said that he understood, and in the end they hugged and wished each other best.<p>

And it felt so final that she wanted to drown the world with her tears.

And, yes, it took her a long time to realize how terrible it was. She was drowning in pain and a sense of being overwhelmed and she felt, overall, like she was coming apart at the seams, and she needed someone to fix her.

But it was at that time that she realized that she had to fix herself.

It had been a few months—ten, to be exact—since Clary ended her relationship with Jace for good, and she realized a few things along the way .

First of all, she fell in love. The kind of love that people write songs and books about; the kind of love people fight over; the kind of love that inspires people. Unfortunately, her love turned twisted really fast, and she fell into a hole that it took her a year to get out of. She fell in love with him, and then she hated him, and then she fell harder, and it was a vicious cycle without an end.

She learned that it was okay to miss him sometimes—and she also learned that she missed him a lot more than she thought she would. When she was alone, roaming through the streets of New York, and she saw something that made her think of him, she got choked up and had to stand still for a second, her eyes trained on the ground, before she was able to come back to herself again. It was like someone had to hit pause for a second in order for her heart to catch up with the reality of her situation.

Even though she missed him to the point of physical pain, she also realized that she was happier than she had ever been. She began to miss him less and less as the months went by, and she was happy to finally understand that just because she missed him didn't mean that she had to give in.

But, most importantly, she realized that losing a boy would never compare to the joy she felt when she found herself.

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><p><em>Yeeep. That's the ending. Thanks again for reading! Let me know what you think. :) <em>


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